Hair today, gone tomomo

How quickly does time fly when you have a mo? Well, not very really, especially if you are stuck in itchy tropical humidity and incessant rain. The land of tropical humidity and incessant rain, Queensland, is clearly the place to be in November. I mean, no daylight saving, wonderfully disappointing Australian cricket performances, box jellyfish, deadly coconuts. You get the drift. But more than all of these drawcards, there is something in the Queensland air that makes a man a man and a butch hairy one at that. So, stuck in a national capital devoid of mo power, the blue sky thinking says ‘go bananas in Queensland...’

Like the stinging trees and killer insects, it turns out the place is swarming with men looking very very manly. More manly than the men in Manly who aren’t very manly at all (hello Selwynator!). A case in point is in the TNS Brisbane office. How lucky have the ladies in this office been for 30 whole days? Even the tropical air seems to have done Jason the world of good this year, though I’m guessing he started in June...



But like the Police Academy series, John Brumby and Vegemite iSnack 2.0, all good things must come to an end. With the twinkly lights and endless adverts featuring Curtis Stone (jeeze I watch far too much TV) signifying Christmas is a-coming, the month of Movember is no more. December brings with it a re-acquaintance with razors, a ritualistic shedding of manliness, a very brief foray into a Hitler moustache and then nothing.



Nothing but joy that it is all over and the thrill of an instant facelift. For you see, it’s not easy carrying a mo and carrying it off with such panache. Trust me, traipsing through a Queensland tropical rainforest with the fierce sun penetrating through the trees, the insects and spider webs hassling your mo, the sweat gathering in its bushiness and forming an enduring itchiness isn’t the most pleasant of experiences. Neither is turning up to speak to total strangers looking like a serial killer the easiest way of engendering comfort and open participation!

(Now for the preachy bit...) The thing is, we make these sacrifices because we like to at least try to make a difference. We want to improve men’s health and combat awareness and the ridiculous prejudices that exist for things like depression. We want to see earlier diagnosis of prostate cancer save more lives. And, just by the by, we quite like giving the women and some of the men of this world something nice to look at for a month.

So if you haven’t given a masculine mo man near you a little token of your appreciation for being so darn handsome for 8.33% of the year, do so now. You can even give to us if you like, all you need to do is go over to the top right of this page and follow the links. It couldn’t be any easier... much easier than living with a mo for a month!

Thanks as ever, your warm hairy friends from around the world.

Where have all my mo bros gone?

Hello there. Look at the calendar. November. Getting a little warmer in the topsy-turvy southern hemisphere. Hmm, I guess that would be counterintuitive to increasing facial hair then. Now, look at the top of this page, the browser address thing on the interweb stuff pageload protocol whatsit. Canberramos. Canberramos. CanberraMOS. Oh for those plural days, when not only could you stroke your own little nasal fuzzstrip with satisfying pleasure, but you could marvel in the butchness of those around you.

Dispirited (and, more so, frightened by how scary one can look after 30 days solid), things in the face buddy stakes were a little tardy this year, not wishing to scare off small children and all. But there’s no keeping a good mo down, and since it has been catching up fast, I have been scouring the city looking forlornly for my old mo buddies. Where would men with extraordinary facial specimens hang out? Perhaps waiting to get married by Tony Abbott? No, not likely. Hmm, under the bridge with the other hairy hoboes? Nah, I think they get swept up by the Keep Canberra Comfortable police. Ooh, this could be promising... the bush, home to many a dodgy mo-faced friend. A path called the Gandalf Trail. He had a big white mo for a bit, right? (Plus he was a bit of a show off with fancy party tricks I have to say). No way, you fool of a Took.



I’ve climbed the highest mountains, scouring the landscape for giant caterpillars attached to gentlemen’s heads, sniffing out pockets of testosterone, but still no luck. For some reason the lyrics ‘All by moself, don’t wanna be all by moself...’ swirl around my beautiful head. Just where have all my mo bros gone?

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Meanwhile, at that very moment, in Brisbane, Queensland, a young man of great courage and willingness to be mocked pitifully for his attempts at looking manly stirred. Something wasn’t quite right. Something was appearing on his face, taking over his life. For some reason he felt the urge to call his old guru of strategic facial hair generation, to reconnect, to reminisce and to think about how free and liberated we were (I think, with some hindsight, merely by fact of scaring everyone within a 50 metre radius). Like Powderfinger in a couple years time when they need a bit of cash, we needed to re-form.

What happened next was the stuff of fairy tales. Like magic (hmm, perhaps that Gandalf dude does have something to do with it), little hairy slugs were breaking out around our young hero. The bonds of brotherhood were extending like a curly handlebar moustache out to others blessed with the necessary testosterone levels and undoubted attraction to the fairer sex.



So good on Brisbane, soon to be home of the victorious English in the first test. The balance of butchness may have switched, but the moral of the story remains the same. Men up and down the land get ill, they do suffer and often this could be prevented. Awareness and earlier diagnosis of prostate cancer. Support and help and just something to break down the stigmas and barriers of mental health. We do this, we look stupid, we write random rubbish on this blog because we are men and we love other men.

Please support us if you can... by making a donation following the instructions on the top right of this page, or giving one of your own facially-challenged men in your life a little cash. Or even just a nice manly hug. You will feel as good on the inside as we look on the outside.

Hair today, gone tomorrow

The problem with the Liberals is their complete absence of a cohesive policy on facial hair change. In fact, almost all politicians seem a bit light on in the moustachio stakes, apart from good old Mike Kelly of one time Eden Monaro fame and perhaps the Deputy PM after a heavy night out with Kev and Wayne at Fyshwick Hooters. If only they knew what intelligence, diplomacy and power a mo gives you. If Malcolm Turnbull had one attached to his smug mug his whole “I am the leader” routine would have sincere credibility. Joe Hockey wouldn’t be big cuddly Joe, but big cuddly butch and manly Joe, and Tony Abbott would look even scarier in his budgie smugglers on Manly Beach. All this mayhem could have so easily been avoided through lack of shaving.

Take climate change, for instance, or a Carbon Reduction Programatic Scheme Resolution Policy Program Initiative. It’s simple really… as Neil and Ben worked out in a five minute mo-stroking session.



Neil has a small box of Super Kev strength carbon while Ben has a big box of unstable, Liberal brand carbon. Neil trades small carbon which is of equal environmental footprint (on the British wellie size measurement scale) to Ben’s big box of scary carbon. Carbon trading done. Business over, and time for admiring each others’ facial fun instead.



Jason meanwhile just promises to reduce some of his lethal emissions...

All easy peasy, you think, but sometimes it’s only after a deal is done that you realise what you have signed up to. It turns out that apparently scientists have discovered that the mighty moustache is a serious polluter itself (bear with me here). So they say, the foodstuffs and minerals which find themselves easily attached to one’s mo calcify and result in large clumps of carbon dioxide emitting super-polluters. Without having time to have a snooze in the Senate, er I mean, anally deliberate over every single word in the Carbon Reduction whatsit something or other, we missed this point, and it turns out that mos, for now, are no longer in fashion. Bloody greeny hippies!



Amazingly and fortuitously, this coincides with the month of December and, for 2009, Movember is over yet again. Just because it’s December doesn’t mean that you can’t sponsor us anymore. Do you know why? Because men get diagnosed with prostate cancer every day of every month. Depression and suicide happens throughout the year. And we need all the help we can get. Please follow links to sponsor us, or simply thank us for being mildly amused, on the right hand side of this page.

Australian Idols

As the month of Movember progresses and the bristles bloom into strands of hair worthy of getting stuck in the plughole, it becomes more apparent of some of the pros and cons of sporting a mo. They are not compatible with heat and flies and dusty winds. They result in that look young people working in shops and cafes give you along the lines of “are you, like for real, like, ohmygod far out, Stan for Idol.” They itch. And they attract and repel in equal measure.

Australia doesn’t really seem like the ideal place for a mo, what with the heat, the salty ocean, the red dust and the preponderance of metrosexual moisturiser products. But somehow, as Australia always does, the country punches above its weight, and has given us a plethora of mo laden icons. From the first pioneers and stockmen to the line of fast bowlers queuing up to get one over on the Poms, the mo has been at a centre of advancing Australia fair. We love a sunburnt country, but we love it even more when the male population are sprouting facial features.

Now, the Canberra mos are inspired by the icons in this country, and with the extra thought and intelligence that one acquires from having a moustache, we have been musing on the stature of our attempts at hairy greatness in the wider scheme of things. Are we Aussie icons? Perhaps not yet, but there’s certainly a great deal of similarity between the arch of the Harbour Bridge and that thing on Neil’s top lip.



Are we embedded in the landscape of this country, like the grains of sand in the desert and lumps of rock waiting to be pillaged and sold to China? Hmm, maybe not quite, but Jason is certainly our own little golden nugget in the Western Australian wilderness.



And are we iconic mo men, like Dennis Lillee and Chopper Read and Darryl Kerrigan and Humphrey B Bear (well, he is kind of hairy right?) Well, clearly, no, but try telling that to Ben who is an icon for Gen Y moustache grooming wannabes up and down the land.



So we may not have reached iconic status quite yet, but with three years of intermittent mo growth on the board we are slowly getting there. There are far more important and worthy men than us – your brothers and fathers and sons, your favourite cricket team, the guy you eye up in the coffee shop who orders a skinny soy decaf latte – men who one day may face issues such as depression or prostate cancer. Continue to show your support for all these great men, helping to raise awareness and action to tackle health inequalities by supporting the spirit of Movember. In kind, or, better, in money. The links to sponsor us are on the top right. And thanks to everyone who has donated, whether a large chunk of your hard earned wonga, or some loose change for a crumby biscuit. Thank you. You are all great Australians too.

It must be something to do with public service regulations but there seems to be a distinct absence of butch looking men with mos around this year (so Ben tells me, as he notices these kinds of things). It could be the climate which has been hot (yes, hot, Canberra, I know, goes against all prejudices hey), or perhaps the rather sedate landscape of English roses and, er, more English roses.



Canberra and the mo are a contradiction, one orderly and planned, the other spontaneous and wild. With this in mind, it wasn’t just the hair on our lips which broadened this week, but the country boys came to the big city for a couple of days rest and relaxation (ahem) in Melbourne.

Melbourne is the birthplace of Movember, a feat which is enshrined in a little block of concrete at Federation Square (see if you can find it). Where it started exactly I do not know, but Ben was once again on the prowl for any signs of testosterone he could find.

They tell us Melbourne is all cultured and sophisticated, but I’m not so sure that they speak all proper like what we do. Café culture perhaps, sitting on a street, watching the trams go by, being admired by well-dressed women and, more often, men. Drinking lattes, just so you can get a frothy line on the mo, and tucking into fancy city food like, er, basil and avocado. La di da.



So we leave Melbourne with a better appreciation of how it all started, and what a good bunch of people to come up with such a worthy concept. Because while these Melbourne boys like a bit of fun, they are serious minded types too, and know how male health issues remain a concern for men and their families up and down the land. Remember you too can show your support and donate whatever little you have to this cause and keep us inspired on the long 48 minute flight back to Canberra. Just follow the links on the top right or email one of us or if you are in Melbourne, go and have a delightful chewy Anzac biscuit and give us a bit of change. (You are also welcome to come on over to S&G to have a stroke).

Meanwhile, in Perth, a monster is brewing…

There's something in the 'air

There must be some circadian rhythm to this month of the year, where stars and hair follicles align by some mystical magnetic force and result in a coming together of hairiness and the great, well, not as un-washed. Throughout October, September, August, July… (you get the picture) little contact is made with humanity, but come Movember and all of a sudden it’s a non-stop face-to-face, nose-to-nose, hair-to-hair clash between those well endowed with nose troopers and those who are not. Work meetings, focus groups, presentations with a higher than average audience drawn by the pure testosterone crackling in the air are all the rage.





What happens when you get out and about into the public domain is that you start to get noticed. Important people begin to recognise you and can see that there is something special going on. They can’t quite put their finger on it, but they see something about your demeanour, the respect and authority you can command just from having a mo, teamed with a clear ability to cop a bit of flak for looking like a tool. So they are keen to get you on board to solve their little problems. Got a problem with declining poll ratings and the challenges of appearing tough and humane at the same time? That very manly man over there can help sort it out, with his tough but welcoming facial feature.



Leader of the free world and need to pass a complex healthcare reform bill? (Who doesn’t these days?) Just call on that man over there, a picture of fine health and a walking insurance policy against hair loss.



Not all of us can be called on in this way however, and in a desperate attempt to be too cool for school seem to have disappeared to seek extra help in the mo growing stakes. Rumour has it they have been seeking emergency help and rehab from some former specialists in upper lip cultivation. Apparently, treatment includes many many cans of weak lager on a flight to the UK and a tonking of J E Embury.


So, er, yeah, translating that to the real world and Jason is on holiday and Neil and Ben have been pretty busy and couldn’t get round to taking any fancy pictures. But the growing has been going and it is a close race between Ben’s extravagant feature and Neil’s basic but sturdy model. Why are we doing this to ourselves (and our friends, and family, and colleagues, and clients, and people in the street, and aliens spying from Uranus)? Because it’s Movember of course. While we may be able to improve poll ratings and help pass healthcare reform bills, we need your support when it comes to improving men’s health, and would love and give you big kisses (OK you can opt out of that if you want) for anything you can donate to us. It’s very easy, just follow the links on the right of this page.

For now though, we’ll leave you to it and get back to solving the world’s problems. Now where did I leave that cache of uranium I confiscated…

Moments in time...

Ah those were the days, back when we were all fresh faced and untainted by the challenges of walking around with nasty looking bristly appendages on our faces. It was October 2007, when working families and global economic crises were yet to be discovered. The only Facebook was a literary biopic of the supposedly suave A-Team character. Canberra was all quiet and dull. So much has changed since then.

Since those heady days, a few of us boys have turned into men for one month of the year, injecting testosterone and generally being unable to multitask. We grew mos, moustaches, hairy top lips, face slugs, bristly nose buddies and, in one case, not much apart from some slightly longer sideburns and a bit of wispy stubble. While some of us have truly grown up and flown the nest, the spirit is still alive, a solidarity borne out of the shared experiences of itchy faces and being glared in the street and refused entry to the RSL for ‘looking a bit dodgy’. Movember 2009 is returning…









Not everything changes though. We know that men do not look after their health. We know that men still access health services less frequently than women, and typically late so that early diagnosis and treatment is not an option. We know that (or can estimate) in 2010 over 20,000 of us in Australia will be diagnosed with prostate cancer and over 3,000 will die. We also know that around one in eight men will suffer from depression at some point. We know that depression is a key suicide indicator and men account for 80% of suicide deaths in Australia. We may or may not know family or friends who have been affected by these issues, but the likelihood is we will.

We know that not shaving for a month is not really a sacrifice but it is our way of trying to do something. That’s why for a third year, depleted in numbers but not in purpose, we are taking part in Movember, something which has grown from a pub in Melbourne (I’m not sure if it was a pub already frequented by butch hairy men) to an international campaign to raise awareness and funding to support male heath issues. You can find more information on http://au.movemberfoundation.com/

So, guys and gals, please support us as much as you can: you can follow links to donate anything you can on the right of this page. Your reward? A general sense of wellbeing and, hopefully, if inspiration allows, a few chuckles as you follow us on the hairy journey.

Thank you,

Neil Stafford
Ben Selwyn
Jason Davis

Triple Mo Championship Contenders

Mo worries

It seems an age ago that the first sprigs of fluff started to appear on our faces... those heady days of Spring smoothness and Melbourne Cup stubble and creative blog entries. Ah, we must've been younger then. It's amazing what happens when you let nature take its course and makes you realise we haven't really evolved much from cavemen (OK, women have known this for a while but then I'm constantly told they are the smarter sex...)

Grunt. Of course, like grizzled itchy old men we are starting to resent the fresh face of pimply youth, but it cannot be denied that there is this extra air of authority and security that you get with a nose buddy, a feeling which is dangerously addictive. No longer do you care about the dodgy looks, the serial killer comparisons and the cornflakes stored for lunch. Instead, you are happy to shout out loud "I have a mo and I am proud".

So in the name of Mo Pride, we went off shouting from the Canberra rooftops, or hanging around some shiny sculpture at the National Gallery and getting told off by some twit for being unartistic to be more precise. For ‘we’ read Ben & Neil, given Mat had escaped to look scary round a golf course in woop woop and Jason took his light stubble off to Perth.

It’s like they suddenly get mo's and Canberra is no longer good enough for them! Still, we don't miss them... in fact, their cardboard cut outs are generally more entertaining and not too bad at pulling a few charts together.

So this is pretty much as hairy as it'll get, though you can still sponsor us into December :-) Please do, it'll make the pain of parting with our facial friends slightly more palatable. And we might send you some clippings as thanks. Now how can you resist?

*****STOP PRESS*****

BE THE ONE TO PUSH US OVER A GRAND! Our fundraising total currently stands at $925. Go on go on go on go on go on go on go on go on go on go on go on .

Mo surrender

It seems the absence of Jason’s pathetic little wisp of hair has changed the dynamic amongst the three remaining Canberra mos. No longer do we have a runt of the litter against which to favourably compare our resplendent hairy brushes. Things are getting far more competitive, and with the end of Movember fast approaching it seems the race is on to be crowned alpha male, owner of the filthiest, grizzliest mo in Murray Crescent.

As with any event with the tiniest iota of competition, means and ways are being found to gain the upper hand. This week it became clear how Mat has been keeping a tight, well-groomed rein on his little facial feature and further explained how our big chunky textas were running out midway through strategic blue sky insight meetings.



You know how if you hang upside down from a door frame you’ll grow a bit taller? No? Try it tonight! Well, Ben took this severely flawed hypothesis, mixed it around in the cavernous space between his ears and applied this in an effort to ‘bulge out’ his mo (no comparisons with budgie smuggling techniques please!). Capital International Dentists Inc came up with some dentures and Bob’s your uncle (well, he’s my Dad actually, but who’s actually QA-ing this)…

Meanwhile, Neil, famed for his laid back, no-stress, happy-go-lucky mild mannered approach to life, is letting none of this competitive nonsense get to him. Safe in the knowledge that he is already part walrus, he’s been kicking back and letting his mo rest up and catch the breeze.

Remember people, we are not just doing this to look a bit gay and take voyeuristic pictures of one another around the office. The serious thing is men’s health is a real problem, mainly because we are too butch and hairy about it to go seek help. Take depression, which is a known high risk factor for suicide. From 1988 to 2002, the suicide rate was four times higher in men than women. It's vital that more people learn to recognise depression in men because depression is treatable and effective treatments are available. Please sponsor us by following the instructions on the top right of this page.